


Reckless

by giggleangel11



Category: Bawson, Pitch - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and stuff, Kickboxing, LET THERE BE SMUT, Mild Angst, Pitching Prompts, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2018-08-22 21:45:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8302286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giggleangel11/pseuds/giggleangel11
Summary: So this is my entry for Pitching Prompts Week 1: "rewrite of the dinner scene with mike chasing Ginny after she walks out"After dinner with Ginny's mother implodes, Ginny rushes off to her sanctuary: the gym. But when she makes her way back to her hotel room, she's surprised to find none other than Mike Lawson waiting outside of her door.





	1. Resentment

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any of these glorious characters. They're all property of Fox (and can be seen on Thursday nights at 9pm EST, watch it if you haven't yet!!) No copyright infringement intended.  
> Also, no beta, so all mistakes are my own.

It took everything in Ginny to walk, and not run, in the heels that she’d regretted the second that she’d strapped them on in her hotel room at the top of the evening. She made her way through the crowd to the valet desk to turn in her ticket. Not that she needed the ticket. The attendant knew exactly who she was, and was all too excited to be the one to retrieve the vehicle that the first female major leaguer drove to a dinner that was clearly cut short. 

She waited outside so that she could make her escape the second the valet showed up with her truck.

“You wanna talk about it, Rookie?”

Ginny didn’t have to turn around to know who had followed her out. The restaurant that Mike had recommended for the dinner with Ginny’s mother was high-profile enough that guests only murmured their excitement without approaching. Mike was a regular here and unfazed, but Ginny could feel their eyes on her, could practically hear her name on the breaths of those who were still waiting in line outside. She was suffocating. Where the hell was her car!

Mike waved at the fans casually as he approached her, and kept a professional distance once he reached her.

“I’m pretty sure my leaving was proof that I’m not really in the mood for conversation,” Ginny replied, wishing that she had her mitt for cover. Who knew if the onlookers could read lips or not. She tried her best to keep her expression impassive despite the frustrated tears that were burning the backs of her eyes. She cleared her throat and fiddled with her purse to give her hands something to do. 

His look was firm but she caught the gentle glint in his eyes. “Look, we both know that you’re strong. I just wanted to let you know that you don't have to be strong alone.” He straightened his back and stroked his beard, eliciting a faint smile from Ginny. 

“Am I clear, Baker?”

“Crystal, Old Man.”

“That you?” Mike asked, referring to the shiny, black F-150 that had just made its way to the curb directly behind Ginny. Mike had never seen a more fitting pair. The Ford was a perfect reflection of the Padres’ newest player –reliable, powerful…beautiful. 

“Yeah,” Ginny replied softly. Despite her best efforts, Mike still caught that hint of something in her tone that lingered just under her surface. That something that suggested that this truck was more than just a vehicle to her. 

Mike lingered as the attendant handed Ginny her keys, and struggled –and failed— to not laugh as she shuffled out of her pumps and climbed into the truck, tossing her heels into the passenger seat.

“Get home safe, Rookie,” he called. She nodded him off with a smile, and Mike watched her pull off before heading back into the restaurant. 

Ginny drove the speed limit with her left leg perched under her raised elbow and her music blaring the entire way. Despite the slight lowering of her blood pressure thanks to Mike, she still felt like she was drowning. She should’ve known better. She should have rescheduled with her mother. She should have spent this time watching film and prepping for her first All-Star game instead of diving headfirst into family drama. 

She parked in her reserved space and pulled her heels back on, preparing herself for any cameras that might be lying in wait. She grinned courteously at the occasional gasps and the few, sporadic flashes, and went to her room as quickly as the elevator would allow so that she could get changed and head to the gym. She was thankful for the sign on the fitness center door that explained that the space was reserved for athletes during All-Star weekend. The last thing that she wanted was to run into a fan in the one place that she could consistently find peace.

She limited her workout to just an hour-long session so that she could spend the rest of her night reviewing her opponents before her curfew. But when she made it back to her room drenched in sweat and finally feeling like the weight of the night had been lifted, she was surprised to find Mike Lawson sitting outside of her door. He hopped up when he saw her and grimaced. She could hear his back pop from down the hall. 

“I didn't just spend half an hour giving you a pep talk through the door,” he said not-so-casually.”

Ginny attempted to hide how stunned she was, but came up short. She scanned up and down the hallway out of habit, but they both knew that their teammates were out on the town, and that security was put in place to prevent civilians or paparazzi from getting too close. Pulling her card key out of her phone case sleeve, Ginny opened the door and held it open for Mike. He hesitated for just a second before following her in.

“You could’ve called,” she said, unleashing her damp curls from the ponytail that she’d whipped them up in before her workout.  
“I did. It kept going to voicemail. My feelings are still hurt, just in case you were wondering.”

“You’re a big boy. You can handle it,” Ginny said, fully aware that she’d put her phone on “Do Not Disturb” the second that she’d left the restaurant. “What’s that?” Ginny had finally acknowledged the heavenly smell drifting from the large paper bag that Mike was holding. 

Mike held it behind his back. “You skipped dinner so I thought that I’d bring you something. But since you decided to ignore my calls, I’m not sure that you deserve it now.”

Ginny tried to peek behind Mike’s back, but he turned. She pouted up at him. “At least let me see what it is.”

“Nice try, Roo—”

Ginny pressed against Mike and snatched the bag before he could react. Damn she was fast. 

“You were saying?” Ginny teased. She was already working her way through the contents of the bag while Mike tried to regain his composure…and his pride. 

He scoffed. “What did you do after you stormed off—run a marathon? How is this much sweat even possible?” he asked, gesturing between her body and his stained shirt. “Go clean up while I reheat your dinner.”

Mike waited until Ginny disappeared into the bathroom before pre-heating the oven and slipping the slices of cake into the fridge. As the food warmed, Mike wondered for the hundredth time whether this was appropriate behavior. At some point he knew that he would have to stop lying to himself, telling himself that he would do this for any of his teammates. He supported all of the guys. He looked after all of those twenty-three year old mooks like the family that they’d become. But Ginny Baker was different. She was an icon, sure, but she was more than that to this team. 

More than that to him. 

She had all too quickly become the sole sense of stability in his life, his legacy. In a matter of weeks, she’d managed to single-handedly rearrange the priorities in his life, and somehow he didn’t mind that. He was just happy to have someone to talk to at night again. 

Mike looked up. He was so submerged in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard the shower stop. Turning off the oven, he rushed to plate the food before Ginny returned. He set the plates along the island just as she stepped in, still towel-drying her hair and dressed in just a pair of shorts and a loose-fitting Padres top that landed perfectly along her waistline. His body hummed as her scent overshadowed the aroma of the food that was less than a foot in front of him, and his pulse skyrocketed the second that he caught a glimpse of the faint outline of her raised nipples shrouded in the gray of her top. He looked away instantly, turning his attention entirely to the presentation. Her presence was more massive than she would ever understand. 

“That smells incredible,” she moaned. Mike bit his lip. What was she doing to him?

“Wish that I could say that I made this myself.” He turned away from her, pretending to scour the kitchen for forks that he already knew were in the top right drawer as Ginny leaned across the counter. “But I thought that you might want to try the best lasagna on the west coast.”

“You thought right. There are a couple of beers in the fridge,” Ginny said over her shoulder as she took the plates to the couch and sat them on the coffee table. Ginny’s nose instantly scrunched the second that Mike sat down beside her. “Ugh! I can still smell my sweat on you. I’m so sorry. Do you want to take that off? I could loan you a shirt.”

“You know, despite my girlish figure, I’m going to jump out on a limb here and assume that I’m not quite your size,” Mike quipped. 

Ginny rolled her eyes and grinned. “I stole a few of my brother’s shirts before my first game. He doesn’t quite have your gut, but they might still work.”

Mike’s hand flew to his chest in feigned agony. “Ouch! Well-played, Rookie.” He stood and started to unbutton his shirt. Ginny instinctively looked away only to realize that he had a thin shirt on underneath it. He tossed the dress shirt at her. “You can apologize by paying for my dry cleaning.”

The laughter was easy between them, but they could both feel the undercurrent simmering just barely out of reach. Call him crazy, but Mike Lawson could have sworn that his rookie snuck a few peeks at the guns when she thought that he wouldn’t notice. And Ginny Baker was well aware of the effort that it took for Mike’s eyes not to wander.

“Now, hurry up and try the food so that you can compliment my restaurant choice for the night,” he said, leaving his plate untouched while he watched her in anticipation. Mike stopped breathing as her lips wrapped around the fork. Chills coursed up and down his spine as she groaned with pleasure. 

“This is life-changing,”she stated through a mouthful of pasta. 

“Just wait until dessert.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really. But, first, the hard stuff.”

Ginny bit back the sexual joke that was hanging on the tip of her tongue. She knew why Mike had gone through all of this trouble. “We’re going to need more than just one beer for that kind of conversation. My relationship with my mom is…complicated.”

“Isn’t everything?” Mike asked, grunting at the first bite of lasagna. Ginny took a sip of her beer without taking her eyes off of her captain.

“The man that she brought to dinner tonight, he was the man that she cheated on my father with. I was in middle school the first time that I saw him at our house, holding her.”

Mike struggled to stay in the present as he remembered discovering Rachel’s affair. Ginny downed the last of her beer and Mike watched as she walked to the fridge for another. 

“And the real kicker,” she continued, “is that she always told me that I could be honest with her about what I wanted in life, but she couldn’t even be honest about her marriage.”

Mike set down his plate and settled in, prepared to listen as long as she needed him to. He could read the fire in her. He’d felt it before. The threat of tears clogged her throat, but her rage was too intense for them to fall.

Ginny scoffed. “She blindsided me tonight. Before my first All-Star game! And she had the nerve to say that they’d only been seeing each other for a year! But hey, at least this guy had the decency to leave his wife after a ten-year affair. My mom just waited until my dad was dead.”

“Gin—”

Ginny stood up. “Don’t. My father could be a cold man. I understand that now, but that doesn’t make her any less of a hypocrite.”

“She had a reason to stay. You and your brother were her priority.”

“Then she should have told my dad. They could have fixed it!”

Mike shook his head. He was on the edge of his seat. “You don’t know that.”

“She could have at least told me,” Ginny reasoned.

“She probably thought that she was protecting you by keeping it a secret.”

“I would have understood!”

“Would you? You were so young then, Gin. Your parents clearly saw how focused you were, how special you are. Why would they want to derail you for their sakes?”

“How would you know?”

“I just get it, OK?”

“How? This isn’t your life. You don’t know me!”

Mike stood up, invading her space, but Ginny stood her ground. “I know because I’m in the middle of a divorce, Baker!” he exclaimed. “And if I would have pulled my head out of my own ass long enough to actually have kids, I wouldn’t have wanted them to go through this process. Getting a divorce isn’t just signing a piece of paper, Rookie. It’s ending a portion of your life. It’s moving out and alimony and paperwork. It’s expensive and depressing and messy, and it can take years. Why would your mother want to put you through that?”

Ginny stepped back, realization strangling them both. “I didn’t know how hard it was for her,” she whispered, “or you.” Mike watched her closely, choosing his next words carefully as her gaze tore through him.

“Baker, I—”

Ginny shook her head, cutting him off. “Tomorrow is the big day,” she said softly. If your old ass can’t be with me on the diamond, then can you at least walk me through the hitters tonight?”

With a weak smile, Mike pulled her into his arms before he could stop himself and before she could tell him off. 

She'd blown him away once again. 

He could practically hear her mind whirring as she tensed at his touch and eventually melded into him. She gripped his shirt, allowing him to be her anchor. It had a been so long since someone had been able to comfort her even though they both knew that there was work to do. She pushed against his chest just enough for her to be able to see his face without leaving his grip.

“You know,” she said, “this doesn't have to be one-sided. You're free to unload your drama on me whenever you need to.”

He chuckled, jostling her slightly. He brushed his lips against her forehead in the quickest of kisses before letting her go and heading towards the fridge. 

“I appreciate that, Rook. I might just have to take you up on that offer tomorrow after I bomb this analyst gig.”

“And after I blow my first All-Star game.”

“I think that sounds like a date. Takeout in my room?”

“I owe you for tonight.”

“Don't worry about it,” Mike said as he pulled out the cake. “I know how much rookies make in this league. You shouldn't make any offers until after you get my dry cleaning bill.”

Ginny shook her hand as if she'd been burned. “Damn, Old Man. Regardless, I'll take my fully-functioning knees and perfect, pear-shaped ass over your extra zeroes any day.” 

Mike could think of a few other traits of hers that he'd love to take.

“You say that now. Just wait until it's time for you to start thinking about retirement.”

She picked a corner of the cake off with her fingers. “How did you know that red velvet is my favorite?”

He shrugged. “Your mom told me. She also said that she was sorry.”

“I bet she is.”

Mike handed her the cake and pulled his own slice from the fridge. “She is. Go get a fork, you animal!” he said after she plucked another piece with her fingers and licked the frosting off. He wouldn't be able to keep his focus if he had to keep watching her lick icing off of herself without being able to taste her for himself. These were the exact types of thoughts that he was supposed to be avoiding.

They climbed onto the couch with their slices of cake and cups of almond milk that the hotel had provided (apparently the hotel had housed multiple clients with an intolerance for lactose) while Mike pulled up videos of the competition on Ginny's laptop.

 

He didn't flinch when she laid her head on his lap after the first hour of analysis. And she didn't mind when he slipped his fingers into her curls and rubbed soothing circles into her scalp. He was halfway through discussing the best way to strike out Diaz when he realized that she was snoring quietly against his thigh. The mixture of his voice, his touch, and sheer exhaustion had lulled her to sleep.

The captain pulled the blanket up higher on her shoulders, slipped an extra pillow behind his back, and whispered, “Goodnight, Rookie.”


	2. Tease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.
> 
> Disclaimer: Per usual, I own none of these characters, but you should watch them on Fox Thursdays at 9PM :]

The next morning, Ginny wakes up with the sun, but is too comfortable to rise. The fog of sleep holds her captive as she buries her face deeper into the pillow. She’s surprised by its firmness and intoxicated by its scent. The couch cushions are also more solid than she remembered, and warmer, and her body is instinctively drawn to the heat as she grinds deeper into it. The cushions pulse beneath her head in a steady, staccato rhythm, lulling her back under. But the faint sparks gliding along her skin keep her afloat. 

Her curls tickle her forehead, ruffled by the slight breeze. Did she leave the ceiling fan on last night? 

She hears a groan that couldn’t have come from her as the cushions tighten around her frame. Her eyes finally blink open, resenting the orange rays that blind her momentarily. The highlights from last night slowly start to trickle back as she attempts to sit up only to meet resistance. She looks down to see an arm encircling her waist. She looks up to see a sleeping Mike Lawson. 

Maybe she overdid it on the beers last night, and this is just one of those dreams within a dream. She’s tempted to just lie back down and attempt to wake up for real this time, but the hard length resting beneath her stomach lets her know that this is real and that she didn’t fall asleep on the couch alone. 

Her mind tells her to get up; assess the situation; kick his ass out! But her body doesn't respond. It knows something that she doesn’t, and she’s a deer in headlights as she watches his silent breaths rustle the hairs of his beard. 

She knows that nothing happened last night; she isn’t hungover and they’re both fully dressed, but somehow this feels far more intimate than a one-night stand. 

Ginny is shocked out of her reverie when Mike’s phone starts to buzz on the table. Other than the slight tightening of his grip around her, he doesn’t seem to stir, at first. She checks the screen and is surprised to see Amelia’s name in bold letters. When would they have exchanged numbers? Last night? Or maybe, Ginny thought, Lawson had taken her advice and asked for Amelia’s help with the broadcasting gig. That would explain how he landed a test spot on Fox Sports so quickly. 

“Gin.” 

Ginny’s head whips back toward Mike. Despite his lids being open, his eyes are still glazed with sleep, crystal blues rimmed with red. 

The hand that previously rested behind his head clumsily grasps the back of her neck, pulling her closer. Despite her instincts, curiosity gets the best of her. Mike goes still once her face is just a breath away from his. His thumb strokes the hairs along her nape so gently that Ginny hardly registers the motion. Sliding the tip of his nose along her jawline, Mike nuzzles her neck, his beard tickling her skin, before pressing a slow kiss along her vein. A guttural moan escapes her as she grinds into his thigh. Mike’s head falls back as his brain wrestles between reality and his latest fantasy. 

But then his phone begins to vibrate again, and this time he wakes up completely, stunned to see Ginny straddling him. Her hair falls forward, framing her face and glowing with the sun’s rays seeping in behind her. All he can think is that he's never seen anything so wondrous. Taking in his shocked expression, Ginny starts to stand, but he grips her thighs, easing her back down and adoring how comfortably they fit in his large hands. The most conscious part of his brain knows that this won’t happen. Once they leave this room, it’s back to the real world. He’ll have to forget what it’s like to wake up to the sound of her moans and the feel of her soft curves underneath his coarse palms. And she’ll have to forget the way that her name poured from his lips at the ass crack of dawn. But at least she could take pride in the confirmation that she was the first thing on his mind that day, and she radiated heat as she silently dared him to break eye contact first. 

She wonders if he can feel how wet she is as she watches his hands trail up her legs to the cusp of her shorts. Judging by the subtle twitch of the outline pressing against the seam of his pants, and the way that he bites his lip as his eyes study the rhythm with which she continues to ride him, she's fairly sure that he can. 

She leans in close, tracing the corner of his mouth with her index finger when a knock at the door jolts them both. 

“Ginny? You up?” At the sound of Blip’s voice the two instantly separate and fumble around to get rid of the evidence of the captain’s overnight stay. After shoving Mike into the bathroom and throwing his shirt in after him, Ginny walks to the door and prays that Blip can't hear how hard her heart is pounding. She opens the door just enough for her body to fit in the frame, blocking his view of the living area. 

“Yeah. I’m up,” she said, trying her best to sound like she had just woken up. She even throws a yawn in for good measure. 

“Are you just now waking up? I thought you would’ve been halfway through your usual mountain of food by now.” 

“I had a long night so I thought that I’d sleep in a bit. Did you need something?” 

Before Blip can respond, a loud bang comes from the bathroom. 

“What was that?” Blip asks, slipping effortlessly into protective mode as he looks past Ginny into the room. 

“Nothing,” Ginny says in what she hopes is an inconspicuous tone. “I was about to jump in the shower when you knocked, and I guess I left my shampoo a little too close to the edge.” 

Taking a step back, he looks at her in disbelief. “You brought shampoo?” 

“Yeah,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest, prepared to go on the defensive. “Is that a problem?” 

“Hell yeah it is!” he exclaims. Ginny’s body goes rigged. “You are new to the big leagues. Have you not seen all the free stuff? Why bother to bring your stuff from home when you can just use the hoity-toity shit here? Plus, it’s all organic. Here, let me show you.” 

He pushes the door open before Ginny can protest. Ginny is pretty sure that she’s on the verge of a heart attack when Blip makes his way into the kitchen. 

“This is the same hotel that they always put us in when we play here. I know that you’re not a coffee drinker, but some of this stuff isn’t half bad. I always make sure to bring a pack or two home for Evelyn, and I bring the towel elephant home for the boys.” He stops rummaging through the cabinet long enough to raise his fist dramatically. “I will make a perfect towel elephant one day.” 

Resisting the urge to look towards the bathroom, Ginny steps beside Blip. “As much as I love hearing about your life goals and money-saving tips, why are you here, Blip?” 

“Oh, right!” he says, putting down the coffee K-cups. “My favorite gym is just down the street. I wanted to see if you were up for a kickboxing session this morning before warm-ups?” 

“Yeah, sure. Just let me get changed and I’ll meet you downstairs.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” He jabs at her arms lightly until she pushes him out with a chuckle. “Get out so I can get ready!” 

The door closes behind Blip just as another bang comes from the bathroom. Ginny stomps toward the room and thrusts the door open to find Mike attempting to rearrange the decorative potpourri bowl. “Are you kidding me?” She throws her hands up, exasperated. “You have the grace of a fucking rhino, Old Man.” 

Mike scrambles out of the room fully dressed, leaving scattered pine cones and dried leaves in his wake. Ginny can’t help but notice that, somehow, Mike’s beard looks just as disheveled as the hair on top of his head, and yet, Morning Mike still isn’t unattractive. As if reading her mind, Mike rubs his face, casually arranging his facial hair into some semblance of order while Ginny heads back to the main room. 

“It wasn’t me. Your bathroom is tiny as hell! You should demand an upgrade.” 

“I need to get ready. You can’t be here,” she says curtly. 

Mike nods. “Ah, I get it. So we’re playing that game.” 

“What game?” Ginny asks as she starts unpacking a fresh set of gym gear. 

“That game where we avoid talking about awkward things.” 

“I’m a big girl, Lawson. Last night and this morning are only as awkward as you choose to make them. I’m fine.” 

“Are you?” Mike asks, refusing to move out of her way as she turns towards the bathroom. 

“I am. I appreciate you coming by with dinner,” she murmurs. “And thank you for listening and being there for me, and reviewing the tape with me like a good captain. But that’s all that happened here. You did your job, and then you went back to your room once I started to nod off. That’s all.” 

His look shifts to one of concern. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for us to end up like that last night. I guess I just slid down in my sleep. I overstepped. I should’ve—” 

Ginny has to take a deep breath to keep from throwing her clothes at Mike’s face. “Damnit, Mike! Stop apologizing. Nothing happened. We didn’t fuck. You didn’t take advantage of me. I am not your damsel to protect.” 

“No, but I am your captain.” 

“Yes, you’re my captain, and I’m your rookie. We're also grown-ups. Get the fuck out of your feelings.” 

“Yeah, well maybe you should get into your feelings.” Mike takes a mental step back to debate whether that statement made any sense. 

Ginny steps into his space before he can come to a decision. She lowers her voice to a harsh whisper. “I came here to pitch. I told you that when we met, and nothing’s changed. Now, you’re free to stay if you want.” She pulls off her shirt. A blush flames its way up Mike’s neck, but he awkwardly holds eye contact as she pulls on her sports bra. “I don’t care. But Blip is going to wonder what's taking me so long.” She shrugs off out of her night shorts and pulls on her compression shorts. “I have an All-Star game to prep for, and you have an anchor position to secure. There couldn't be a worse time for you to want to talk about feelings.” 

She hesitates long enough to pull her hair into a ponytail, long enough for Mike to witness the slightest crack in her bravado. When he doesn't respond, she pulls on her headphones, slings on her gym bag, and walks out. 

~**~ 

“So where'd you go to dinner last night?” Blip asks over the thrumming bass that vibrates the walls of the gym while he and Ginny wrap their wrists. 

“What?” 

“There was a takeout bag on the counter.” 

“Oh, right. I had dinner with my mom last night, remember?” 

“Shit, yeah. Evelyn did mention that she was in town. How did it go?” 

Ginny shrugged. “About as well as expected.” 

“So it was a colossal disaster?” 

“Of course.” 

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I got you out of bed to punch shit first thing in the morning, huh,” he says with a smile as they pull on their gloves and head to the mat. 

David Carlson, their instructor, is a tall, brawny man who has the gait of someone who’s trained the best of the best for decades, but has the smile of someone who’s modest about it. Because it’s been months since Ginny’s strapped on her gloves, the instructor starts her on the bag while Blip works with another instructor in the sparring area. 

“Alright,” Carlson starts, “I want you to keep it light. We’ll start off with a few combinations. I want to see jab, jab, up right, right hook. Cool?” 

“Got it,” Ginny mutters, muscles coiled and ready to spring. She executes the combination, hissing out a breath for each punch. Carlson nods approvingly. 

“Cross, up left, up right, double jab. Go!” He barks her next combination while he holds the bag for her. She bounces on the tips of her toes as she speeds through the next combination. 

“Again,” he commands. This time he lets go of the bag so that she can move around her target. 

“Now put them together. Double jab, up right, right hook, cross, up left, up right, double jab.” He says the full combination almost as quickly as she pounds it into the bag. Her breaths escape through her teeth in drawn out streams now as a sheen of sweat spreads along her skin and her mind goes quiet. 

“Alright, we’re going to move on to a five-minute circuit. To start, I want thirty seconds of power punches. When the thirty seconds are up, I’ll give you a different workout for thirty more seconds, and then it’ll be speed punches. You’re going to switch between speed and power, all freestyle. Got it?” 

“Yeah, let’s go,” she says impatiently. 

Carlson pulls out his timer. “Power!” 

Ginny pounds hooks into the bag before switching to her right roundhouse and switch kicks. The bag chain rattles from the force. 

“Jump squats!” 

Stepping back from the bag, Ginny leaps up and then lowers her body into a seated position slowly. She keeps her core tight and her back straight as she focuses on controlling every aspect of her body with each repetition. 

“Speed!” 

Doublecrossjabuppercutuppercutrighthooklefthook. Rightelbowdoubleleftkneedoublecrossjab. Lefthookcrossjabswitchkick. 

“Good! Mountain climbers.” 

Ginny drops into a push-up position and begins to pump her knees furiously. Sweat drips onto the mat beneath her, coaxing a smile out of her. 

“Power!” 

She runs through the circuit a second time before he gives her fifteen seconds to grab water and then move to the floor bag. She grins. This was the exercise that she’d been waiting for. 

Ginny straddles the bag with her gloves pressing into the imitation leather as Carlson gives her the next step. “Five minutes of ground and pound. Each minute, I want you to switch your position. You can straddle, lean to one side, or crouch above. Don’t forget to throw those ‘bows and add some hammer fists,” he says, demonstrating by holding his fists above his head and striking down. “Alright?” 

Ginny just nods, right hand already drawn back. 

Carlson resets his timer. “Go!” 

Ginny wails on the bag with her right hand before switching her weight to her right leg and striking with her left hand. Her eyes never waver from the red circle on the bag, her target. 

“Switch!” 

Ginny sits back on her knees. Her thighs lock the bag into place as she transitions into cutting elbows. She moves from headshots, and scrambles down the bag for the body shots. 

“Switch!” 

She plants her right knee onto the bag and throws side punches. 

“Switch!” 

She drops back to her knees, but now she imagines that the red circle is Mike Lawson’s face, not because she’s angry with him, but because she’s mad at herself. Her punches become more sporadic and her rhythmic breathing falters as her mind wanders to this morning and last night. She was almost prepared to break her rule this morning. She could lie to herself and shrug it off as just a case of morning lady wood, but she knew better. Sure, it’d been a while since she was last physical with anyone, but Trevor wasn’t her first, and she’s gone longer without sex. 

The problem was Mike. 

He was her captain, her mentor, her childhood hero, and this morning all she wanted to do was sit on that beard of his. 

“Switch!” 

Ginny fumbled as she changed positions and returned to her hammer punches. How had this man gotten into her head like this? She knew better! She would do better, because sexual attraction could be ignored. She could sweat it out, put it out of her mind until it fizzled out. She'd done it before. What she wouldn't do is lose the only person who really gets her. 

“Switch!” 

Mike understands her in a way that very few ever had. But there was no room for negotiation. Like it or not, she’s a brand now. What would Amelia think if she found out about this morning, or if one of the players would have spotted Mike leaving her room? Ginny, and her career, would be DOA. The controversy could tank the team, or at least the morale. They wouldn’t even have to have sex. It could be something as simple as paparazzi catching a stolen glance on camera. 

And yet, even as she pummels the bag, she swears that she can feel his beard scraping against her skin as he kisses her neck. 

When Carlson announces that her time is up, Ginny sits back, out of breath and more wired than when she arrived.


	3. Spite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike and Ginny address their frustrations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all of the comments!! I really appreciate them, and I hope this chapter was worth the crazy long wait.

  
As Mike hid out in a bathroom stall of a club that had some weird techno-hippy name, he was hyperaware of the fact that he is a colossal idiot.

  
His stomach dropped once again as Ginny's voicemail rang in his ear. The phone had actually rung three times before she ignored his call. Truth be told, this was progress. He had graduated from Baker's blocked call list to an actual dial tone. In hindsight, it was two in the morning, and most people probably wouldn't answer a call at this hour. Logic aside, the alcohol steeled his courage enough to actually leave a voicemail this time.

  
“Hey, Rookie,” he slurred slightly. “I know that it's late. I'm sorry. I just- I just can't believe that you left me here with these mooks. I mean, is girl’s night really better than watching Salvamini butcher Nirvana karaoke? No. No it's not.” Mike paused as he attempted to dig the proper words from the alcohol-steeped trenches of his brain. “This would be more fun with you here, Rookie. I-the guys miss you. And I think that you and I should talk about…things. Just, call me back, okay. Please. Good night, Baker.”

  
Mike hung up and stared at the blank screen. He was supposed to be having a guy’s night in honor of his return to the single life (that the majority of the team hadn't realized that he'd left in the first place), and their second win in a row since the Nike party debacle, but Mike wasn't in the mood, and the guys didn't really need a reason to go out.

  
Things should've been good. The team was winning. The guys, Ginny included, were bonding. He and Amelia had even reached cordial terms. On the surface, things were good, but that didn't make Mike's home any less quiet. It wa,sn't until Ginny’s disappearing act and his run in with Rachel that he realized just how painfully empty his place was. And sensing his discomfort like the mind readers that they are, Blip and Evelyn started inviting Mike to dinner more often, but Mike knew that their home was Ginny’s safe haven, and he didn't want his drama to disrupt that.

  
And he and Ginny were on solid terms, but the tension was still palpable whenever it was just the two of them. Sure, he and Amelia were never supposed to become a real “thing,” but he should've just told Ginny in the first place like he'd wanted to. They shouldn't have been a secret. He gets that, but Ginny ended their late night calls with no warning after Amelia told her and, truth be told, he missed seeing her name pop up on his screen. But as much as this frustrated him, a part of him knew that this was for the best. The distance was a constant reminder of the line that he nearly crossed during All-Star weekend.  
Weeks had passed and the feel of her was still imprinted on his fingertips. He felt like an addict going through withdrawal; some days he was a high-functioning member of society, and then others his skin crawled and his body ached in need of another hit. The fact that her face was on every billboard in the city certainly didn't help.

  
Falling asleep to the disembodied timbre of her exhausted laughter paled in comparison to hearing her whisper his name in her sleep while the warmth of her body coaxed him into the best night’s sleep that he'd had in weeks.

  
That night in the hotel, he thought that he'd imagined it until she mumbled his name a second time as she repositioned herself higher up on his lap, gripping his shirt tightly. He should've left the moment that he realized that she was asleep. He could've woken her up and sent her to bed, but he didn't. He stayed. And the wanting was his punishment. Ginny Baker haunted him at night and avoided him during the day.

  
“Did you fall in, Old Man? Do I need to call the nursing home?”

  
The sound of Blip’s voice dragged Mike out of his pity party and back into the club bathroom stall. Mike flushed and stepped out of the stall to find Blip’s Sherlock Holmes smirk staring back at him. He scoffed as he washed his hands.

  
“You would actually put me in a home, Blip?” Mike asked in feigned shock. “I'm definitely taking you out of the will when I get home. The Lawson garage and pool table are going to Evelyn, and I hope that she doesn't let you anywhere near the Maseratis.”

  
“You're a cruel man, Mike.” Blip glanced around to make sure that they were alone before jumping into his interrogation.

“You’re not feeling this, are you?”

  
Mike shrugged.

  
“Then we might as well head out," Blip said. "Somebody found a full Whitney Houston set list and the shit has hit the proverbial fan.”

  
Mike and Blip called separate Ubers and left the club, and someone's painful rendition of “I'm Every Woman,” far behind.

  
The next morning, Mike shrugged out of his shorts and slipped into the saltwater pool. Aqua therapy had become a must around a year or so ago, and Mike knew that this house was a keeper when the realtor told him that it had both an indoor and outdoor pool. Of course, at the time, he thought that it would just be a temporary residence until Rachel came to her senses...  
Taking a deep breath, Mike dove under the surface and propelled himself forward with calculated strokes. His problems drifted off as he pushed himself deeper into the seemingly bottomless pool. He waited until his lungs began to scream for oxygen before resurfacing. Closing his eyes, Mike floated onto his back, allowing the water to cradle him as he ignored the slight pounding in his skull from the mix of his residual hangover and recent lack of oxygen.

  
“Mr. Lawson?”

  
Despite his junk being on full display in its limp, relaxed glory, Mike didn't flinch at the sound of his housekeeper’s voice. Mike walked around naked often enough that he added “must be comfortable with seeing employer in the buff on a regular basis” to the job description. Thankfully, Anna was comfortable with the job requirements and the non-disclosure agreement that came with them. The fact that she had no interest in men was also a major perk that he didn't discover until her second day on the job when she showed him her wedding photos. In them, her smile was just as radiant as her bride’s.

  
And yet, as the water cradled him, a familiar grunt caused Mike to stiffen ever so slightly. He opened his eyes to find none other than Ginny Baker looking everywhere but at him.

  
“Um, I can come back when you're less…exposed,” she said to the wall behind him. Mike swung his legs underneath himself gracefully and glided over to the edge of the pool, propping his arms on the edge.

  
“Anna, could you give us a minute, please?”

  
“Of course, Mr. Lawson,” she replied softly with a hint of disappointment in her tone. Despite all of the actors, professional athletes, and supermodels that had frequented Mike’s humble abode, Anna had never seemed the least bit star struck until Ginny Baker happened. He would be surprised by this observation if he didn't know Ginny. He'd had months to witness the effect that she had on people, and he watched her as she watched Anna close the French doors on her way out. Even with half of his body submerged in water, he was acutely aware of the heat radiating off of her, and his lower half responded instantly.  
Mike cleared his throat. “So, what can I do for you, Rookie?”

  
She pulled one of the fresh towels from the rack and threw it at his face. “You can cover up, for starters. Contrary to popular belief, not all of San Diego wants to see all of you.”

  
“Lies!” Mike lingered in the water. If she seemed uncomfortable now, there was no telling how she would react if she saw what he was packing just beneath the surface. A sizable portion of him really wanted to find out. Either way, her fully dressed, scowling frame had him at full attention, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

  
“I got your voicemail,” she said simply with her arms tucked tightly across her chest. He’d give anything to know what was going on in that complicated brain of hers.

  
“I have to admit, Baker, I don’t remember the bulk of the message.” He remembered exactly what he’d said.

  
"Really now?"

  
"Yep."

  
She pulled her phone out of her pocket, and his heart sank as his drunken words poured from the speakers. "What did you want to talk about, Mike?"

  
The mix of Ginny using his first name and the abruptness of the atmosphere shift was enough to send Mike's blood back to his proper head. And yet, it didn't stop him from reveling in Ginny's flustered expression as he used his arms to push himself out of the pool.

  
The surge to his ego was almost enough for him to ignore the way his joints popped as he climbed out the rest of the way. Almost.

  
“Thirsty, Baker?” he asked. She scoffed at him. “The kitchen’s right through here. I make a mean mimosa.”

  
Rolling her eyes, she walked past him through the corridor into the kitchen. She looked back at him for just a second before she disappeared into the fridge. “Start talking, Lawson. I don’t have all day.”

  
Mike started to open his mouth, but stopped when Ginny shifted her weight from one leg to the other, back and forth as she scoured the fridge, inadvertently shaking her ass to some beat that only she could hear. This woman was going to be the death of him.

  
Mike cleared his throat. "I should've been the one to tell you about me and Amelia." Despite the fact that the upper half of Ginny's body was still concealed by the refrigerator door, Mike still noticed the way that her spine went rigged. She sighed quietly before pulling a Corona from the fridge and closing the door. "Since when do you drink Coronas?" he asked.

  
"Who you sleep with is none of my business," she said calmly. Mike cringed inwardly, not because of her statement, but because she'd purposefully avoided his question. He knew that there were at least six different brands of beer, including Blue Moon, her favorite, but she'd picked a Corona. "But you lied to me, Mike. I asked you if you knew her. I invited you both to dinner with my mom." Her face scrunched up as she relived that night.

  
"I was going to tell you when it first happened."

  
"Then what stopped you?"

  
Mike tried to choose his words carefully. How could he explain without throwing Amelia under the bus even though that part of it was clearly her fault? "It was...discussed that this might be an unnecessary distraction for you."

  
"What? Why would that have anything to do with me?"

  
"You shut me out for days when you found out. Did you really think that I wouldn't notice the difference?"

  
"That was because you lied to me."

  
"Is that the only reason?" Mike pressed. Judging by the dangerous look in his rookie's eyes, he knew that he was on thin ice, but things were changing and she was the only source of stability that he had left, other than Blip. He needed her.  
Ginny went completely still one second, and then the next he was sure that she was about to throw the unopened bottle at him.

  
"How did you know about the poster, Mike?" The edge to her tone was razor-sharp.

  
The curveball threw him for just a moment before he caught on. He tried to hide his understanding, but it was too late. She'd read him, and now she knew that he knew that she knew.

  
"Did Amelia tell you about the poster, Mike?" This time she said his name with a ferocity that made his stomach turn. He was only slightly turned on by it. Only slightly.

  
“What poster?”

  
Putting the bottle down, she stepped closer to him. A part of Mike was relieved that Ginny had set down the potential weapon, but a more prevalent part of him was aware that her body was the real threat. Why hadn’t he put on pants before having this discussion? “After the Arizona game, you said that I had your poster on my wall.”

  
“It was a joke, Baker. I'm a geriatric narcissist! I'm convinced that everyone in the locker room grew up with my poster, even Al. I’m just that old, and just that awesome.”

  
Throwing her hands up in frustration, Ginny said, “And now you're lying to me again.”

  
“I’m not!”

  
Her expression morphed into a blend of frustration and sadness. Mike’s heart ached at the sight. “So this is what Amelia thought that she needed to protect me from,” Ginny murmured. “God, I never should’ve told her.”

  
“What?”

  
“The poster. Is that the problem, Mike?” Ginny's eyes seared him alive as she moved in once again. “You and Amelia didn't want to tell me because you think that I'm just some kid with a schoolgirl crush? That my game would be thrown off because my childhood idol doesn't like-like me?”

  
“What? No!” Mike stammered.

  
Ginny shrugged. “She's my agent. I'm her investment. Amelia and I aren't friends,” she said, all ice. “I get that. But, I thought that you and I were on the same page.”

  
Mike remembered her words from their first encounter. “It wasn't like that, Baker.”

  
“Then tell me about it, Lawson. Why were _my_ feelings so vital to _your_ relationship with my agent?”

  
“We just didn't want to put you in an awkward situation.”

  
“Mission failed. What else?”

  
“There is nothing else. The goal was to protect you. The goal is always to keep the princess from getting her feelings hurt,” he spat. “We should be focusing on rings, but no, her majesty can't keep her name out of the papers.”

  
“Right, because I'm the one with the fragile ego? What about you and Duarte, huh?”

  
Mike scoffed and started to head towards the stairs. Ginny stood firm. “What about him?”

  
“You two have been measuring dicks for weeks. And you've been riding my ass ever since Oscar signed him. You don't care that my face is plastered all over the city. You're just upset that they brought in a newer model.”

  
He turned back to her. “You haven't even been in this league for a full season yet, rookie. Don't shrink me.”

  
“But see, that's the thing. I may be new to this league, but I've been surrounded by emotionally-detached men my entire life.” There was a touch of empathy in her tone, but she was still far from cooling. “You and I both know that Duarte isn't your replacement. Al wouldn't just drop you. He's your new mentee. They want him to be your legacy.”

  
She'd struck a nerve. His conversation with Blip was still fresh in his mind. Mike knew who his legacy was supposed to be.

  
“Don't be stupid. Why are we even talking about Duarte?”

  
“Because he's your real problem.”

  
This time Mike cleared the space between them in two long strides. “Goddamnit, Ginny! No he's not. You are!”

  
“No, don't—”

  
“Yes. It's you. It's always been you. I can't think when you're around, and your face is literally everywhere. I have one, maybe two, seasons left in me, if I'm lucky, but all I can think about when I'm in the locker room is Ginny Baker and her fucking terrible obsession with Katy Perry. And how I'd want you to try my favorite pasta recipe just so I could see if you'd notice the cilantro in it. And the fact that I would be willing to fight literally any guy in that room if he so much as looks at you the wrong way. You're single-handedly the worst distraction that I've ever encountered in the majors.”

  
Ginny's eye had turned to glass and were rimmed with red. She was taken aback, but she didn’t stay silent for long. “Are the trade rumors true, Mike?”

  
She effectively leeched all of his fire in that one sentence. He sighed and leaned against the pristine marble countertop. “I just got the call this morning. I'm going to Chicago.”

  
Her tears started to pool as she shoved him, but he could tell that she wasn't willing to let them fall. “When were you going to tell the team? When were you going to tell _me_?”

  
“I left you the voicemail, didn't I?”

  
Yeah, and I figured that you wanted to talk about Amelia or All-Star weekend, not about you abandoning us. Why?”

  
“Why what?”

  
“Why did you waive your no-trade clause? What happened to ‘born a Padre, die a Padre?’ I know you wouldn't leave because of me.”

  
“You're not why I chose to leave, but you're why I can't stay,” he whispered.

  
“What does that even mean?”

  
“You're my legacy, Baker!” he bellowed. “And if I stay, I know that I'll end up ruining you before you even get off the ground.”  
She shoved him again, but he didn't go far. “You're my captain. I need you here, dumbass. I can't do this without you.”

  
“You'll be better off.”

  
“Stop telling me what I need. Stop protecting me!”

  
This time when she pushed him, Mike felt the cool steel of the refrigerator door on his bare back and the electric touch of her fingertips on his chest.

  
Her eyes met his for only a moment before they began to wander south, following the trail that her hands blazed. His breath stuttered out of him as her eyes returned to his.

  
“Ginny—”

  
“I told you,” she breathed, “I don't need your protection.”

  
She brushed a ghost of a kiss against his lips as her fingers traipsed up his neck and into his hair. Ginny tugged roughly as her hips attempted to liberate him from the towel.

  
“You're killing me, Baker,” Mike growled as her nails continued to dance along his scalp. His hands were fists at his sides.

  
She stepped back against the island, allowing him a moment to breathe before saying, “Good.” He held his breath as her eyes honed in on the tent, well aware that his pole was the only thing holding the towel up now. “Clearly we have a problem here, Lawson. Come fix it.”

  
Mike could practically hear his common sense flutter away as he moved towards her. She bit her perfect lip in anticipation. He realized that he wanted to do the same. He gripped her hips lightly once he reached her and searched her eyes for any hint of doubt.

  
“You should know,” he said. Her lips parted in a gasp as his nails grazed the small of her back, “if we do this, there's no going back.”

  
She tugged at his towel and smiled devilishly as it hit the ground. “Perfect.”

  
They crashed. Mike’s hands explored while Ginny’s mouth teased, planting feather kisses and light nips along his skin.

Gripping her perfect, pear-shaped ass, he lifted her on the countertop and watched, thoroughly entranced, as she yanked her shirt over her head, dropping it on the floor. He gripped the back of her neck and pulled her close. As his mouth moved from her lips, to her cheek, to her forehead, he released her curls from the bun that she had them in, letting them cascade in his face. The fluorescent light in the kitchen didn't shroud her as poetically as the sunlight did in the hotel, but she was still picture perfect.

  
“God, Baker,” he mused, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb, “you are a force of nature.” She looked down at him, and he was sure that he'd never seen her look so raw, so vulnerable. He wondered if he looked the same to her. She leaned in and kissed him slowly, coercing moans out of him and swallowing them whole. She owned him, and he never would have guessed that he would feel so comfortable about such a realization.

  
She locked her legs around him. He threw both hands in her hair, tugging gently, while kissing her roughly. Even with her jeans still on, he couldn't miss the heady scent of arousal, and he was dying to familiarize himself with every ounce of her. She must have read his mind, because she leaned back and undid the button with one hand before he impatiently took over. The zipper was forced apart as he yanked the denim down and off. He beamed at the solid gray fabric that concealed his destination. No lace or frills, but her wetness darkened the apex of the material in a way that made his mouth water. Looking up at her, his eyes asked for one more confirmation. If she wanted to back out, this was her last chance. Her nod was firm, but her fingernails tapped anxiously.

  
Slowly, Mike pressed her down until her back reached the cool countertop. She hissed at the chill against her heated skin, but relaxed as her body adjusted to it. Mike slid her forward gingerly and propped her feet on the marble so that he could pepper wet kisses along her inner thighs. The roughness of his beard in such a sensitive area caused her to squirm. Her breath hitched melodically as he trailed closer to her center until his tongue finally connected with her clit. She whimpered quietly, wordlessly asking him to keep going. He was more than happy to comply.

  
Her raised nipples pressed against her sports bra, and he caressed them with the thumb of one hand while he pulled her panties to the side with the other before diving in. She cried out as his tongue entered her, digging as deep as it could reach, tasting her, introducing itself to her inner walls. He pulled it back out slowly, watching her reactions intently as he dragged his tongue up and down and up and over.

  
Her eyes were clasped shut. Her hands gripped the edge of the counter before finding his hair and pulling, hard. His groan rumbled against her center. She screamed. The sounds that came from him as he devoured her salty essence only made her wetter, and the ever-present vein in his dick throbbed at the thought of going for a swim. But, he was more than willing to wait. He wanted to ease any stress that weighed on her continuously. He wanted to make her forget about the fact that she would be playing her final game with her captain in just a few days. He wanted to give her whatever she wanted while she was willing to let him.

  
Taking his hand away from her breast, he started to ease her panties down, and smiled as she raised her long legs skyward in front of his face. With a massive smile, Mike pulled the underwear off and ran his tongue back down her calf to her thigh. Ginny squealed as Mike gripped her ass, and she moaned when his thumb pressed little circles into her clit.  
“I want you to do something for me, Baker.” Mike's voice was low and thick. Ginny hummed in response as he kept a steady pace. “I want to hear you. Tell me what you want. Can you do that for me?”

  
She nodded. He increased the pressure.

  
“What was that? I didn't quite catch that.” He sped up.

  
“Fuck, yes!” Her hoarse cry was far more than he'd hoped for.

  
“There we go!” Keeping her legs up and closed, Mike replaced his thumb with his tongue and went back to work on her clit. Her back arched roughly. Encouraged, he teased his index finger up and down her folds. “Tell me.”

  
“In,” she said between gasps. “Put it in, please.”

  
He eased his finger in, hesitating for a moment to bask in her heat. He waited until her walls relaxed before slipping his middle finger in as well. Ginny propped herself up on her elbows so that she could watch him work. He was more than willing to give her a show.

  
Mike pumped his fingers gingerly as she opened up wider for him while flicking her spot with the tip of his tongue. She stroked and pulled at the hairs on the back of his neck.

  
“Deeper,” she crooned.

  
Mike stood up and pulled her forward, allowing her to taste herself on his tongue before biting down on her lip. “Yes ma'am.”  
Flattening his palm against her sex, he crooked his fingers inside and worked his hand up and down, caressing her G-spot and clit at the same time, all while he teased the skin along her collarbone with his teeth and tongue.

  
“H-holy shit,” she breathed. “Don't stop.”

  
He adored every aspect of her; her expressions, the sounds that she made, the way that she tasted. He was an idiot if he thought that he would ever be able to just pretend that this didn't happen.

  
He looked up to see that her eyes were closed again. Mike cupped the side of her neck and stroked her jawline as his hand picked up speed. She trembled in his hands and clenched his fingers. She was so close and he wanted her first orgasm with him to be truly explosive. He bent back down and pushed back her clitoral hood so he could suck her clit while his fingers pulsed. Her breath was trapped in her throat and her mouth was latched open in preparation of the scream that would accompany her climax. He couldn't remember the last time he'd wanted to see something so badly.

  
“Come on, honey,” he growled. “Will you cum for me? Please?”

  
Her head dropped back as her release consumed her. She constricted around his stilled fingers as the tremors rocked through her thin frame. Mesmerized, he peppered her with kisses while she came down from her high.

  
She pressed her forehead to his. “Just…wow.” Her nails scraped down the hair of his shaft absentmindedly. “Looks like I owe you one, Lawson.”

  
“Spend the day with me.”

  
Her drowsy eyes widened. “What?”

  
“Stay here for the day. No phones, no responsibilities. We'll go back to reality tomorrow.”

  
“I don't know.”

  
“Please, Ginny.”

  
He watched her as she searched his face. He just needed to know what it would be like to be with Ginny Baker 100% off the field. To just be normal people for a day.

  
“Okay,” she said finally, “but there has to be food.”

  
He took her face in his hands and kissed her. “Whatever you want, Rookie.”

 

 

 


	4. Sate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One Night Only- pt. 1/3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry again for the wait, guys!! I've been working on a screenplay, and life has just been particularly hectic lately.  
> But, after the cancellation, I wanted to make sure that I kept this story alive, especially since I have a pretty extensive list of ideas for future chapters.  
> Thanks for hanging in there with me, and as always, I truly appreciate the kudos and comments!!

Ginny fidgeted on the cool countertop. She was still mostly naked. He was still completely naked. And Lil’ (not so little) Lawson was still staring at her while Mike typed on his phone casually.

“Didn’t you just enforce a no-phone clause?” she asked after a few minutes. 

“Yes, but if we’re going off the grid for the day then I need to make some arrangements first,” he said without looking up from the device. “Trust me. You’ll thank me later.”

She huffed and readjusted for what felt like the millionth time within the last five minutes. Her heart was still pounding and she felt like a giant bundle or nerves just ready to snap. Despite her discomfort, she was thankful for the brief quiet. It gave her enough time to run through countless scenarios and to properly talk herself out of what would likely be the biggest blunder of her short career. As comfortable as she felt with Mike, she couldn't shake the thought of their argument. How did he see her? They were teammates, yes, but that didn't change the fact that he was her childhood idol. That thirteen-year gap never felt so stark.

“And done,” Mike said suddenly before putting his phone down and rushing forward. Ginny barely had time to react before he yanked her off of the island and tossed her over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” she squealed, squirming. He tightened his grip around her waist with one arm while the other held her legs still as he climbed the stairs. 

“I don’t believe you’ve been properly introduced to Casa de Lawson. There’s the indoor saltwater pool, the outdoor heated pool, the basketball court—” 

“You have a basketball court. Seriously? I bet you’ve never stepped foot in that court,” she teased as she watched the muscles in his back shift and flex. Ginny crossed her legs awkwardly. The ache between her thighs had returned so quickly that it nearly made her head spin. Or was she still feeling the effects from the first orgasm? She couldn’t tell, nor did she really care. All she knew was that she was itching to relieve the months’ worth of tension that had been building up between them so that she could finally think straight again. So that she could finally go back to sharing the dugout or locker room with him without wondering how he tastes, or how that beard would feel on her inner thighs… 

“I’ll have you know that basketball would’ve been my life if baseball wouldn’t have worked out,” Mike said, interrupting her thoughts. 

Ginny already knew this. As a North Carolina native, Ginny was born and raised a Tar Heel, and was no stranger to Boshamer Stadium at Chapel Hill. Sixteen years ago, Ginny's dad dragged her out of bed to watch a college game on campus for the first time, and to see Mike Lawson, collegiate phenom. He’d been signed to UNC on a basketball scholarship, and he more than proved his worth in the spring. But in the fall, he owned the diamond. At 20, Mike had offers pouring in from the Rockies, Hornets, Braves, and even the Lakers, but by the end of that season, Mike was a Padre, and six years later he’d made his way to thirteen-year-old Ginny’s wall.

Mike reached the top of the stairs and turned into his bedroom. “Maybe I’ll school you later. But for now,” he dropped her on the plush king-sized bed and balanced himself above her, “if I just get one day with you, Baker, I want to make it count.”

The earnest gleam in his eyes was enough to make Ginny’s chest tighten. There’s no way that she would be able to forget that look, she knew, but instead of being smart and leaving, she pulled him down until their lips met and wrapped her legs around him, pulling him as close as humanly possible. Her body buzzed as her tongue rolled over his. This was a black hole that they’d opened themselves up to, and now that they’d made it this far, there was no escaping. 

“Tell me, Baker,” Mike murmured against her lips. “What do you want?”

Ginny gripped Mike’s shoulder and pushed roughly, flipping their position as she straddled him. Her curls blanketed his face as she leaned forward with the cockiest of grins plastered on her lips. “I’d rather show you.” Reaching over his head, she inspected his nightstand.

“Top drawer,” he said, kissing his way up her stomach while she searched. Her abs tensed alluringly as he discovered another one of her spots. It took all of her energy not to fold over onto him right then and there. His tongue trailed along the spot just above her belly button lazily, reading her, learning and memorizing what she loved. She managed to pull a single condom out of the box, but her fingers trembled so intensely that she dropped it on his face. Ginny’s hand shot to her mouth, but Mike didn't miss a beat as he pulled her down before the embarrassment could properly sink in. They laughed and kissed and rolled around until Ginny mounted him once again. He’d unwrapped the condom and slipped it on while she watched appreciatively. Somehow, he seemed even bigger now than he had when they were downstairs. Ginny bit her lip, steeling herself for the challenge. No backing down. 

“Don’t worry, Old Man.” She sat back, grinding into his abs painfully slow. “I can take over from here. Wouldn’t want you to throw your back out or anything.”

He opened his mouth to quip back, but all that he could manage was a guttural moan as she eased herself onto him. She hissed quietly as she rolled her hips to take more of him in. For a few seconds, Mike couldn’t see straight. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t function. It was a miracle that he didn’t cum right then and there, but Ginny’s squeal brought him back to his senses. Her eyes looked as hazy as his mind felt as she rode him steadily. 

Running his palms up her thighs, he gripped her tightly and thrust into her at the pace that she’d set, simultaneously taking some of the strain off of her and leading them into a comfortable rhythm. Ever the romantic, Mike couldn’t help but think that their gentle understanding of each other sexually was just another example of how quickly they’d bonded as teammates, as friends. Little did he know, Ginny was engulfed in a similar thought before her brain switched to radio silence. Mike watched her closely as she began to unravel once again. He wanted to lock away all of her tells: the way that her kissed-raw lips parted and her eyes rolled back; the tremble of her chin as she tried to make the feeling last as long as possible, the way that she shot up to attention only to collapse onto him seconds later as she came undone.

Sitting up, Mike wound his arm around her waist and nipped at her neck softly while her breaths escaped in harsh puffs.  
“God, you feel incredible,” he murmured against her skin. She sighed as he worked his hips, grinding deeper into her. Her hoarse moans pressed him to keep going. Ginny was positive that she didn’t recognize her own voice the farther that they sank into each other.

With a growl, Mike flipped them over and drove into her, watching her eyes to gauge just how rough she wanted him to be as she sank deeper into the plush mattress and closer to the edge of another orgasm. He was firmly committed to the idea of making her cum at least one more time before he would let himself finish, and judging by the way that she breathed his name, he wouldn't have to wait long. Caressing her face, he ran his finger along her bottom lip and pressed until she opened up and let him in. Mike slowed his thrusts. Ginny rolled her hips, missing the friction, but Mike was in control.

“Get it wet for me. Can you do that, Rookie?” he asked. Without hesitation, Ginny ran her tongue up and down his thumb. They were both mesmerized by the trail of spit that followed as Mike pulled his finger out and pressed it against Ginny’s clit. 

Her back arched. Mike picked up speed. They both cried out as they came together.

Mike collapsed on his side beside Ginny and pulled her into a lazy kiss. Ginny smiled against his lips.

“I've got to say,” she whispered, “I'm impressed. I was worried that I'd have to call the paramedics halfway through, Old Man.” 

“Oh, really? I could say the same to you with the way you were screaming.” Ginny slapped his arm. “Mike! Mike! You're so incredible! Oh my god!” 

“You're delusional in your old age.”

“But you want me anyway.”

She bit his lip quickly and soothed it with another kiss. “Maybe.”

“Maybe? I'm wounded.”

Ginny giggled. Mike could listen to that carefree sound all day, every day. 

~**~

"So what's the story with the truck?" Mike asked. Sleep was calling, but he only had one day to be with her like this. Just one day.

"What?" Of all the things that Mike Lawson could have asked her as they lay entwined and naked beneath his sheets, that was definitely the last question that Ginny would have ever expected. 

"Your truck. I'm pretty sure that the night that we had dinner with your mother was the first time I'd ever seen you drive. What made you buy that truck?"

Ginny wasn't sure if she was more shocked by Mike's interest in her car selection, or the fact that it was important enough to him to mention it during such a pivotal moment in their relationship. There was weight to his question. Ginny teased his beard with her fingertips to avoid his curious look as she mulled over her response. He waited patiently. 

"It was the only thing that I bought with the insurance money after the accident."

"God, Gin. I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. We don't have to talk about this if—"

"It's fine, Mike." She shrugged. "It's not a big deal. The world didn't stop turning when my dad died, so I still needed to keep moving. He wanted me to buy a fixer-upper, but baseball took precedence over teaching me about cars, which was fine because I hated the idea anyway. Seemed like it would've been a better way for him to bond with Will since he was actually interested, but my dad never had the time." She held her breath for a moment as Mike traced light circles into the small of her back. "It took some time before I was ready to get back behind the wheel, but once I could actually tolerate the thought of being in a car again, my mom took me out to the dealership and haggled for my truck. I drove it out to San Diego a week later."

She closed her eyes as she remembered the first time that she sat behind the wheel of her truck. It had taken hours for them to complete the paperwork at the small dealership in Tarboro, and the sun had dipped low enough to warrant the need for headlights on the mostly-empty street. She drove slowly with her brother in the passenger seat and their mother trailing cautiously behind. She had her first panic attack when an oncoming car swerved slightly into her lane yards away. The vehicle barely crossed the solid yellow line, but all she could see was the blinding light. In that moment, she knew that her brother was speaking to her, but her blood was pooling in her ears, buzzing, drowning out everything and everyone. She was aware enough to pull over and jump out. Her hands were in her hair. Her heart was in her throat, and her stomach leapt into her chest to fill the space. Her weakness frustrated her. Her father’s ever-present scowl judged her thoroughly every time she closed her eyes.

But quitting wasn't an option, and she refused to be stranded in a new city without transportation.

“It's not a big deal,” she added. “I don't mind talking about it.”

Mike nodded, but he saw right through her bravado. He was more than fluent enough in the ways of Ginny Baker to know when her strength was real, and when it was manufactured. “Well, in case I haven't told you lately, you're the strongest person that I know.”

“Stronger than you, that's for sure,” she said with a smile as she waited for the reference to sink in. Thankfully, it didn't take him long.

Mike laid on his back. “So you saw the beginning and end of my career as a commentator?”

“Oh, I recorded it. In what world would I ever pass up on the chance to taunt you mercilessly for anything in life? Plus, Blip told me all about it.”

“Of course he did.”

“You should thank him.” She nuzzled her nose against his neck. “What he told me that day, it played a pretty big part in me winding up here right now.”

Mike sat back so that he could get a full view of her face. “Seriously? What did he say?”

“You should ask him before you head to Chicago. He might tell you.”

“Or you could just tell me now,” Mike said.

“Where's the fun in that?”

Mike climbed over Ginny, prepared to tickle it out of her, when the doorbell rang. Ginny tensed instantly, but Mike just kissed her quickly before standing and offering his hand to her. “Relax. I ordered a couple of pizzas. You said food was mandatory, right?”

Ginny let Mike pull her up and grip her hips. “That's what you were doing on your phone in the kitchen earlier?”

“Yup. I figured two hours would give us enough time for round one.”

“Round one?”

“And I rented a few movies just in case my movie collection isn't extensive enough for you.”

“Sounds like you thought of everything, Lawson.”

“I told you, Baker, if I just get one day with you, I'm going to make it count.”

Mike leaned in for a kiss, but Ginny dodged him and slapped his ass before heading for the door. “Pizza first. I'm starving! Race you downstairs, Old Man.”

Mike didn't run after her at first. He was frozen by how impossibly perfect this woman was. Ginny Baker is everything.


	5. Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One Night Only- pt. 2/3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So it turns out that I had more ideas for this story than I realized, and this chapter just kind of happened.   
> Thanks again for the lovely comments, kudos, and hits! You guys are truly lovely, and I hope that the pacing and dialogue are both up to par here.

The sun was setting and dinner had been demolished. Empty beer bottles and long-forgotten, half-eaten pizza crusts littered the floor as The Breakfast Club played quietly in the background, drowned out by the soft vibrations of Ginny's moans as she staked her claim on Mike's lap. 

"You know," Mike whispered into the crook of her neck, "you're missing the best part." 

"You said that ten minutes ago. You think every part is the best part." Ginny leaned back and toyed with the drawstrings on Mike's shorts. She had commandeered one of Mike's throwback Padre shirts after spotting it in his closet, and found her underwear where he'd left it on the kitchen floor. With the way that the shirt fell just below the curve of her ass, Mike was convinced that he had never seen a more perfect sight. And with the way that Ginny ogled his arms and chest whenever he spoke, he would probably never wear a shirt ever again. 

"Tell me, Lawson. Which would you rather watch?" she asked. Mike's head dropped against the back of the theater seat as she rolled her hips, getting him hard instantly as if they hadn't just gone at it less than half an hour ago. Ginny Baker was obviously going to be the death of him, but that didn't stop him from standing up and lying her back down on the recently-cleared table. Giving her lips a break, he raised the shirt and went straight for her nipple. Ginny's back arched as he flicked the little mound with the tip of his tongue and ran his large hand up her stomach to pinch the other. 

An assertive knock at the door shocked them both. Ginny covered her mouth to quiet her heavy breathing. They had both forgotten that Anna was still in the house. 

"One second," Mike called before picking Ginny up, kissing her quickly, and dropping her back into the theater seat. He dodged her kick just in time before cracking the door open. "What's going on, Anna?" 

"Amelia is at the front gate. She said that Ginny's missing and you wouldn't answer your phone. Should I let her in?" 

Mike looked back at Ginny, who was shaking her head and waving her arms so that there would be no misinterpreting her opinion. 

"No," Mike said, stifling the urge to laugh at Ginny's theatrics. "I'll go out and talk to her. Tell her I'll be out in a minute, please." 

With a nod, Anna left to deliver the message while Mike closed the door and braced himself to face his rookie. 

Ginny stood and ran a hand through her hair. "So what's the game plan, Captain?" 

"I tell her you're taking a personal day and that she can't join." 

"You don't think that she'll be suspicious that I came here to go off the grid?" 

"Well, I can't lie and say that you're with Blip and Evelyn. She probably checked with them first." 

Ginny groaned, fully aware that he was right. 

"Clearly you need more friends," he added. Ginny tossed a piece of crust at him. He was thankful that she threw the food instead of the empty bottle. 

"Why don't I talk to her?" she offered. 

"Dressed like that?" he asked. 

"I can change." 

"We're wasting time, and I don't want her trying to bulldoze Anna to get in here." 

"I think Anna could take her," Ginny mumbled. 

Mike smiled. "Be that as it may, I'd prefer to not have to play referee today. Besides, the sooner Amelia leaves, the sooner we can get back to your cinematic enlightenment." 

Ginny scoffed, but Mike kissed her forehead and gripped the edge of the shirt. 

"Also," he said, "I'm going to need to borrow this." 

"No way," she replied instantly. 

"I can't go out there shirtless." 

"You have a full closet upstairs, and you go everywhere shirtless!" 

"I do not! Come on, Rookie. I'll give it back, even though I own it and everything." 

"Fine," Ginny said petulantly. She yanked the shirt off and tossed it at him. 

He pulled it on and took a step back so that he could fully take in the vision in front of him. "I'll grab your shirt while I'm out there, you know, unless I forget." 

"That's not funny, Mike." If looks could kill... 

"I'm serious. All of this--" he gestured at her entire body-- "is pretty distracting. I can already feel my memory slipping." He opened the door and stepped halfway out before howling at Ginny. He dipped out of the room before the plastic plate could collide with his face. 

"Bring me my shirt, Lawson!" she yelled through the door. In the interest of keeping all of his limbs intact, Mike jogged to the kitchen, grabbed Ginny's shirt from the counter, and tossed it into the theater room before heading out front. 

Amelia was leaning against her car with her arms crossed and her foot tapping. "What took you so long?" 

"Hello to you too, Amelia. To what do I owe the pleasure?" 

"Is Ginny here?" 

"She is." 

Amelia pushed off of the car. Mike was sure that she was looking through his soul the moment that she pulled her sunglasses off. "Is she okay? Why isn't she answering her phone?" 

"She needed some quiet time. You said that I should tell her about Chicago, so I did." 

"Oh," Amelia said simply. Mike would've given nearly anything to know what was working in that brain of hers. One thing that he'd learned from his time spent with Amelia was that she was usually ten steps ahead of wherever you thought she was. For all he knew, she could've figured their little secret out just by looking at him. "How did she take it?" 

"She's in the gym." It was the only lie that he needed to tell. Anyone who knew Ginny knew where she headed to let off steam, and only the fearless or idiotic would interrupt that. Thankfully, Amelia viewed Mike as both. 

"Well can you tell her to call me when she's ready? I have some new promotions that I want to run by her, and Oscar is looking for her. Oh, and tell her that Evelyn said that she's going to obliterate her when she finds her." 

"Noted." 

Amelia hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "Mike?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Can you tell her that I'm here for her if she needs me?" 

He nodded earnestly. "Of course." 

Amelia seemed to debate her next move before settling on climbing back into her car and backing out of Mike's driveway. It wasn't until then that Mike realized that Ginny's truck was nowhere to be found. 

"How did you get here?" he asked when he made his way back into the theater room. Ginny stopped laughing at the weed scene in the movie long enough to turn to Mike. 

"What?" 

"Your truck isn't out front. You didn't drive here?" 

"No. I called a taxi." 

"Why?" 

"Because if I don't have to drive, then I won't," she said blatantly. Mike stored that away in his vault of Ginny's vulnerabilities and made a mental note to not bring it up again. "Besides, you're driving me home." 

"Oh, really now?" 

Ginny paused the movie and watched Mike take the seat next to her. "Oh most definitely." 

"Nice to know that I've been upgraded to your personal chauffeur." 

She leaned in and teased his beard. "You say that like it’s a new thing." Mike couldn't help but to laugh. They both knew that she was right. "What did she say?" 

"She has some promotions for you. Oscar needs to talk to you. Oh, and Evelyn is going to murder you." 

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Evie planning to murder me is also not a new thing." 

"Did you tell her that you were coming here?" he asked, tracing figure eights into her thighs. Ginny shivered. 

"Obviously not or else she would've torn down your front door by now." 

"True. How long do you think it'll take for her or Blip to figure it out?" 

"I'd give them a week?" 

"Are you kidding me? Three days tops!" Mike countered. "Evie will see it in your eyes as soon as she sees you, and then she and Blip will ask me 'casual' questions to confirm their suspicions." 

"Shit. You think so?" 

Mike sighed. "Baker, feel free to not answer this if you want, but when was the last time you had sex?" 

Ginny wanted to look offended, but she genuinely couldn't quite remember how long it had been since Trevor. A year, maybe? 

Mike took her lack of a response as his answer. "Exactly. And how long do you think it's going to take Evie to notice the sex glow?" 

"I do not have a sex glow!" she laughed. "You're giving yourself way too much credit, Lawson." 

"Believe what you want, but the sex glow is strong with this one." 

"We are not watching Star Wars." 

"Maybe not today. But the first time that you let it slip that you haven't seen it, Sonny will demand a two-day Star Wars marathon.” 

“Two days? Are there really that many movies?” 

“Yes, plus the commentary adds at least an extra five hours.” 

“Yeah. I’ll pass.” 

“Consider yourself lucky, Baker. A few years ago, it was a mandatory rookie tradition.” 

“Really? I bet the freshmen were just begging to be traded back then.” She paused. “And now it's the captain who's leaving.” 

The mood shift was palpable. 

“Ginny—" 

“It's fine, really. Well, it’s not, but we’ll live. You never know, if we take this game this week, we might just see you in the playoffs.” 

“I’m so sorry.” 

Ginny grabbed another slice of pizza. “Mike, I’ve reached my emotion quota for the day. If you’re going to cry, I’m walking home. 

“God, you’re obnoxious,” he said with a smile. “It’s just—I know that this is a one-day thing, but should we maybe talk about what happens after?” 

“We already did. We'll play our last game together, and then you’ll leave. That’s it.” Ginny stared at her pizza, the floor, the paused movie, anything to avoid eye contact with Mike. 

With a huff, Mike gripped her chin between his fingers and held her in place so that his eyes were all that she could see. “If that’s what you really want, I’ll accept it no questions asked. But, right now, your mouth is saying one thing while everything else is telling a completely different story.” 

That rare look of vulnerability was back and Mike hated to be the cause of it, but he hated the obscurity even more. Their window was closing, and he didn’t know if he would get this chance again. Ginny gripped his wrist gently and pulled his hand away from her face so she could hold it. Despite everything that they had done that day, the small gesture caught him off guard. 

“There’s a reason why I have my rule, Mike. I’ve been here before.” 

“With Trevor.” 

Ginny hesitated. “Yeah. Was it that obvious?” 

Mike shrugged. “The whole team figured it out. We just knew better than to mention it.” 

"See? That's the problem. I'm finally in the majors. My entire life has revolved around getting here, and now this--" she gestures between herself and Mike-- "is happening, and I really want it, but it's not realistic. Sure, we could sneak around like we're doing today, and Blip and Evelyn would find out, but what about when the rest of the team figures it out? What happens if someone notices that Ginny Baker has been making frequent trips to Chicago, or that you keep coming here, but you're not seen with the whole team?" Mike sat up straight. He could tell that she was on the verge of a panic attack. "They're trying to turn me into this icon. What precedent will it set for the girls who want to be in this spot if it's revealed that Ginny Baker is fucking her captain? Not just any player, but the head of the fucking team! Sure, you'll be gone after tomorrow, but I'll still be the slut who slept her way to the majors." 

"Ginny." 

"Do you know what happened after Trevor and I started dating?" 

"No," he whispered. 

The first tear finally fell as Ginny stood up and started to pace. "I was happy. I thought that I could finally have something for myself. The players even seemed cool about it, at first, and Trevor said that he was going to leave the league, so my rule wouldn't be a problem. But then--" 

"He was called up." 

"Exactly. He went to the majors and I was left with a team of little boys who suddenly viewed me as a girl, as a target, all because I opened myself up to one of them. The second that the dugout stops seeing me as a player and remembers that I'm just another ass and pair of tits, then I become the problem and I have to leave." 

Mike wanted to say that the Padres were different, but how would he know? The guys love her now (and he was sure that the Omar situation had been thoroughly neutralized), but Management will just bring on a whole new round of freshmen in just a few months, and he won't be there to keep an eye on them. 

Ginny took a shaky breath before continuing. "I want this, Mike. Whether you’re here or Chicago or wherever, I want this. But I can't give up everything that I've worked for." 

The lump in Mike's throat nearly choked him as Ginny sat back down beside him. "I wouldn't ask you to. I may not know exactly how you're feeling, but we're on the same page. This is why I waived my trade clause, remember?" He wiped her tears and allowed his fingers to linger for just a few seconds before pulling back. "You're a damn good pitcher, and you are an icon, Ginny Baker. You're going to be one of the greats because you worked your ass off for it, and if I have to watch that happen from the sidelines instead of by your side, well then that's still a damn good deal." 

At first, Ginny just stared at him, dissecting his words and processing how she felt about them. She knew that he was sincere. She knew that he felt this just as strongly as she did, if not more. But what she didn't know was how they were going to make it through this last game. 

Pushing the arm rest out of the way, Ginny slid over and straddled Mike once again. He laced his fingers behind her back, but otherwise froze, allowing her to make the call. 

Ginny was tired. 

She was tired of making sacrifices. Tired of putting the American Pastime before her own life. Tired of being a robot in cleats! But maybe she wouldn't have to be tired for too much longer. 

"We should have this talk again," she murmured, "after you've retired." 

It wasn't a "no," but rather a "not yet," and that was much more than Mike had expected. Mike could certainly do "not yet." Ginny Baker was well worth the wait. 

He checked his watch. "Well, considering that we've both definitely maxed out our 'emotion quotas' for the day, why don't we head up and get ready for bed." 

The implications sent a chill up her spine. She hadn't considered that staying the night would be included in the one-day-only package. 

"Sounds good," she said, kissing him slowly, "as long as we run through the roster first." 

He helped her up and slapped her ass on the way out. "Deal."


	6. Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One Night Only- part 3/3

"Should I ask why you have a drawer full of unopened toothbrushes?"  
"You absolutely should. It’s a pretty funny story."  
"Okay. Amuse me, Lawson."  
Ginny and Mike had finally made their way back upstairs after running through the roster in the theater room. Anna had clocked off for the night after saying one last goodnight to Ginny, and the huge house was finally silent. Mike couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so content in his own home. Ginny closed the drawer after selecting a purple electric toothbrush and hopping onto the counter.  
“So, when I first moved in, I couldn’t find anything. I’d basically thrown all of my stuff into boxes, and I paid for it in the first week. I hadn’t hired Anna yet. I was still in disbelief about the separation. And suddenly, I couldn’t even brush my teeth before bed. I was a complete wreck. So, on the second day here, I went out and replaced all of my toiletries because I had a game coming up and didn’t have the time to scour all of my boxes. Well, I go to the closest store, buy a handful of toothbrushes and whatnot so I can take a few on the road in case of…emergencies.”  
“Like groupies who want to spend the night?” Ginny asked with a perfectly executed eye roll.  
Mike cleared his throat. “Right. Turns out we had a different emergency: a rookie who lost all of his luggage in baggage claim.”  
“Classic,” Ginny said through a mouthful of toothpaste.  
“Exactly. After that, I started packing spare toothbrushes for every away game, and--”  
“And you kept the extras for the home groupies.”  
“No,” Mike said while flicking water at Ginny. “I became the toothbrush guy.”  
“The toothbrush guy?”  
“Yeah. Sort of a den mother figure, if you will. The guys know to come to me if they ever need spare gear.”  
Ginny spit into the sink, just barely missing where Mike’s hand rested on the marble. He nudged her shoulder before spitting. “How very Phyllis Nefler of you,” she teased.  
“Okay, you’ve seen Troop Beverly Hills, but The Breakfast Club was completely foreign to you before today? How?”  
“Troop Beverly Hills is one of my mom’s favorite movies. How did you end up seeing it? Wasn’t it a little after your time?”  
“First of all, I was a kid when both of those movies came out. Second of all, they came out like four years apart. Same film era. Just how old do you think I am, Baker?  
“Somewhere between senile and decrepit.”  
“Get out of my master bath, you heathen!”  
Ignoring Mike’s dramatic flair, Ginny hopped down from the counter, and headed to the bedroom. “I know that we’re cleaning up and everything,” Ginny started, “but there's one thing that we haven't done.”  
Mike followed and ran his fingers along her waist. “Just one? I can think of quite a few, Baker.”  
“You're disgusting.”  
“You love it.”  
She allowed her eyes to trail across his features. “Maybe.”  
Mike's chest tightened. The air was thick and hazy as if an imaginary border has just been demolished. He shifted gears to get them back on track. “And what is your request, Princess?”  
Ginny rolled her eyes. “You said you were gonna school me on your court."  
Mike chuckled. "Is that really how you want to spend our first and last night together?" he asked, nuzzling her neck. Ginny pushed him off playfully, even though a part of her wanted to hole up in this one room for as long as possible. She rummaged through his dresser until she found a pair of basketball shorts. Removing the throwback shirt that she had claimed as her own, she pulled her sports bra back on.  
"We'll just play 21. It's not like it'll take me long to stomp you," she said.  
"Oh, really now?"  
"Really."  
"Fine. Then I guess you won't mind raising the stakes a bit," Mike said, leading her out into the hall.  
"I'm not streaking through the clubhouse."  
"I would never suggest that—if there were other guys around. Besides, streaking was strictly banned after the Salvamini incident of 2012."  
"The what now?"  
"Long story short, streaking was a long-running rookie tradition until Salvamini came along. Turns out, he looks almost as amazing naked as I do. It hurt the other guys' feelings, so they outlawed it."  
"Such modesty."  
Mike chuckled as they trekked down the stairs. "Hey. I've worked hard on this body for a long time, Baker. I have no problem with flaunting it. You should try it sometime."  
"I never said that I didn't have a great body. I just think that I would get a very different reaction if I walked around the clubhouse naked as often as you supposedly do."  
"Eh. I think it would be about the same."  
"I'm not sure how to feel about that," Ginny muttered as they turned another corner and finally came to a stop. Mike pushed open the massive double doors to reveal a mini-stadium. Rows of overhead lights crackled to life as the pair entered, showing just how expansive the space truly was. Ginny was genuinely awestruck until Mike tossed a basketball at her, which nearly collided with her ribs. He trusted her reflexes enough to believe that she'd catch it.  
"I've gotta say, you've got a pretty nice setup here, Lawson. Now all you're missing is a couple of cheerleaders, a few six-foot five giants, and some hot dogs."  
Mike stepped to the middle of the court. "I don't know. It looks pretty perfect in here right now." Ginny ran a hand through her hair, refusing to swoon at Mike's corniness. "Name the terms, Rookie."  
Ginny dribbled the ball back and forth absentmindedly to refresh her muscle memory. It had been a while since she had handled anything other than a baseball. "You were the one who wanted to 'raise the stakes.' You decide."  
"You don't want me to do that."  
"Why's that?"  
Mike crossed his arms over his chest. Ginny's eyes wandered for just a second, but Mike noticed. He always noticed. "Because what I would wager would result in you being in no shape to walk, let alone pitch."  
All Ginny could do was stare.  
"But, you're the one who wanted to spend our last few hours playing ball."  
Ginny cleared her throat. "Yes, I did. I do. We're playing." Mike smiled while Ginny took a deep breath to steady herself. "If I win, you have to go with Blip next time he wants to do a photoshoot for the Yorkies."  
"God, just skewer me alive, Baker! I swore never again after the Winter Wonderland fiasco."  
"Then I guess you'd better bring you’re A-game."  
"Okay, fine. If I win," he weighed his words in his head carefully before unleashing them, "you have to come to my first home game in Chicago. Sky Box seats."  
The tension loomed once again, as Ginny processed Mike's request and the possible implications.  
Before she could shoot it down, he added, "You can bring Blip. Make things a little less obvious or weird if the press decide to have a field day with it."  
Ginny stopped dribbling and just held the ball between her hands. She squeezed it to the point of straining her muscles to release the nervous energy before it had a chance to take over her mood.  
"Deal," she said simply.  
"Really?"  
"Yes."  
Mike adjusted his shorts and threw his game face on. "Then ladies first."  
Ginny bounced the ball over to Mike. "Age before beauty."  
Mike accepted the ball and shot a perfect three-pointer. "Good thing I have both. Let's make this quick. I have game tickets to reserve."  
~**~  
Ginny had just tied the game up. 19-19.  
Mike's knees were starting to creak, but he refused to let them get the best of him. Sure, he wanted to see that smile in the sky box more than anything, but he also had his reputation to uphold. Ginny Baker would not beat him at his own game. Ginny passed the ball back to Mike as they returned to the center. She dipped effortlessly into her defensive stance. Ginny looked so gorgeous with the thin sheen of sweat that glistened along her skin that Mike almost felt bad for what he was about to do. Almost.  
With a quick fake, he threw Ginny off balance and landed yet another three-pointer, his sixth of the night. Panting slightly, Ginny grunted in frustration.  
"Just remember, you asked for this, honey," Mike said with a shrug.  
"Game's not over yet, sweetie."  
After retrieving the ball, Ginny went for her signature crossover jumper, only to have Mike knock it to the other side of the court. In shock, Ginny watched him chase after the ball, catch it, and sink a quick layup to end the game.  
"Now it is, Rookie."  
Ginny wiped her hair back, detaching the strands from her sweaty forehead. She clapped slowly. "Okay. I accept defeat. I guess Blip and I will see you in Chicago." She braced herself for whatever showboat remark Mike would throw her way, but all that he gave her was that corny smile of his before picking her up and shoving her against the padding along the wall.  
"Yeah, you will," was all he said before kissing her senseless. His tongue obliterated her entire train of thought, and she gasped as his hand released her thigh to journey down her abs into her shorts. He placed her on the ground long enough for her to step out of the shorts before hoisting her back up. Mike nipped her ear while he painted circles between her legs. Unintelligible words fell from her mouth.  
"I want you to wear my number when you come. To Chicago. Can you do that for me, Ginny?"  
Ginny threw her head back. She hadn't realized that her hips were grinding into his hand until Mike held her still.  
"Answer me, Rookie," he cooed, slipping a finger inside.  
"Yes!"  
"Yes what?" He slipped a second finger in.  
"Yes, I'll wear your number."  
"That's what I like to hear, Rookie." He pushed a third finger in and crooked his fingers, pulsing back and forth. Mike tightened his grip on her other leg as the one that ground into the floor began to shake. Mike moaned against her neck. She was so wet, it was as if someone had turned on a faucet. Yes, Ginny Baker would definitely be the death of him.  
"Are you gonna cum for me?" Mike straightened so that he could watch her. To his surprise, Ginny's eyes were open and intent on maintaining the last vestige of her control.  
She nodded. "I am."  
He sped up and pushed deeper. Ginny's nails bit into Mike's arm, but she kept her eyes locked on his. "Tell me when," he breathed. Every part of Ginny was tight as she lost herself in the sound of Mike's hand working her closer to the edge. His grunts steadied her as she watched the strain that played across his features. Her eyes were tempted to roll back as he hit her spot over and over again.  
"I-I'm--" The words were lost in her throat as she tightened around Mike's fingers to the point of near-pain. Taking that as his cue, Mike jerked his hand away, lifted her onto his shoulders and sucked her clit until she came a second time with his name spilling from her lips like a prayer, reverent. Mike was sure that he'd never tasted anything so perfect, and the lingering fear that he may never get to experience it again encouraged him to slide his tongue in deeper, stroke her longer and slower, savor and praise her. Her thighs gripped his head so tightly that a part of him was convinced that he would surely suffocate, or drown. He was fine with either option, but just as soon as he began to consider his future flower arrangement, another orgasm tore through her, resulting in spasms that ultimately released him.  
Slowly, he set her back on her feet, but kept his arm around her waist to steady her. She held onto him tightly and laughed into his shoulder. Ginny cursed quietly as she leaned back against the wall. Mike followed and pressed his forehead to hers.  
"How's your back, Old Man?"  
"You know, it's a little tense. I think I could use a hot shower. Usually helps to loosen up the old kinks."  
Ginny nodded slowly. "I should probably go with you. Make sure you don't slip and fall, or anything."  
Mike took her hand and led her to the locker room. "That's a good idea. I think I left my LifeAlert button upstairs."  
Ginny giggled as she shoved Mike against the shower wall. He pulled Ginny into the corner with him, out of the way of the spray while he adjusted the settings. When Ginny felt the heat behind her, she stepped back carefully and pulled Mike until he was directly under the water.  
She pulled down his shorts and lingered at the sight. Mike Lawson had plenty of reasons to be proud of his body. She couldn't deny that.  
Mike pulled her bra over her head, but Ginny pressed a firm hand to his chest before he could dive in. She held his face in her hands, stroking his beard with her thumbs, and pressed her lips to his gingerly. Her lips wandered along his cheeks to his nose to his forehead, testing his restraint while also easing his coiled frame.  
"We've got all night, right?" she whispered when her lips returned to his.  
Mike's hands tightened around her waist. "We have as long as you want. You have me, Ginny. Always."  
Unable to form actual words, Ginny kissed Mike until the water ran cold.


	7. Friction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooooo sorry about the wait. I hit a bit of a fork in the road while planning out this story, but I think I’ve finally chosen a path (maybe, hopefully).  
> I’ve also been playing around with some other fic ideas, so we’ll see where all of this goes. Either way, the next chapter will be dictated by when life allows me enough time to write. Fingers crossed that it won’t be another 4 months. 
> 
> Thanks for keeping me on my toes :]

Mike couldn't sleep.

  
Despite starting off the night on her back with distance between them, somehow Ginny had drifted over to him and knocked off multiple pillows in the process. Now, her head was perched on his chest while the rest of her body lay diagonal to the headboard. It's a good thing he had such a huge bed, or else her ass would've hit the floor at least five times throughout the night.

  
Mike glanced over at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time. While they had agreed that Ginny would wake up early so that he could drive her home in time to start their usual routines, the thought of her leaving this room filled him with a heaviness that he hadn't fully been able to decode. He'd realized that he would miss her the moment that she agreed to stay for just one day, but he didn't expect the sheer anxiety that came with knowing that this was really it. She would go home, and they would start day one of Operation: It Never Happened. He would come back home to emptiness, and he wasn't sure how he would prepare himself for that. So instead, he stayed up and listened to how much calmer her breathing sounded when he stroked her hair versus her arm, which was splayed across his middle.

  
The realization that haunted him the most was the fact that Ginny Baker had managed to evoke more emotion out of him in just a few months than his marriage had in its final years. This felt like more than just the standard rush that you get from meeting someone new. He’d done that so many times. This was electrifying. And while they may not have realized what it was in the beginning, the connection had been instant, which made the puzzle even harder to crack. Chicago would be good for him. He just had to make himself believe it. But for now...

  
Mike couldn’t sleep.

  
He had two hours left to convince himself that he was no good for Ginny Baker, and that she would thrive all the same once they went their separate ways. The concept was true, but that didn’t make it any easier for him to accept. It was selfish of him, and he knew it, but she was his legacy, after all. He’d never trained a rookie quite like her, and he never would again.

  
**~**~**

  
Ginny's alarm sounded at the ass crack of dawn, but to her surprise, her body didn’t need that awkward reboot time that it usually mandated whenever she slept in a new space. She just curled closer to Mike, who only winced slightly at the sound of the buzzer, and then tightened his grip on her. She considered saying something, anything that might make this easier, but she drew a blank. Instead of offering one of his movie speeches, Mike leaned over her and kissed her with everything that he had left. Ginny wound her arms around his neck, pulling him in. She just felt good knowing that they were still on the same page.

  
“I’m gonna miss the hell out of you, Baker,” he whispered.

  
“Right back at ‘cha, Lawson.”

  
He sat up slowly and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Let’s get you home.”

  
Ginny was quiet because a part of her felt like she already was. She was quiet while she donned the simple shirt and shorts that Mike loaned her, and she smiled when he handed her the throwback shirt.

  
“Keep it. I hardly ever wear it anyway.”

  
When they made it back downstairs, he went to reach for the knob but then paused.

  
"Hey," he started, "could you do me a favor?"

  
"That depends."

  
"Could you sign this for Anna?" He handed Ginny one of the spare baseballs that he had lying around. "In case you didn't notice, she's a huge fan, and Anna doesn't get star struck easy."

  
Ginny signed the ball quickly—she’d nearly formed carpal tunnel from signing so many before her first opener—and tossed it back to Mike. "Maybe she does but you’re just not a big enough star.”

  
Mike put a hand to his chest and opened the door to the garage. “Again, you wound me, Rookie.”

  
“That’s my job, Captain. Got to make sure that head of yours doesn’t get any bigger than it already is.”

  
Mike unlocked the Corvette and opened the door for Ginny. “Then you have embarked on a fruitless journey, because I am, and always will be, the shit.”

  
Ginny snorted in the luxe passenger seat while the roof lowered. The beast roared to life as Mike steered it out of the garage and onto the main road. Ginny wasn't a stranger to the Lawson Garage, but this was her first time in the Corvette since he usually drove the more low-key Range Rover to practice. Closing her eyes, Ginny relaxed against the plush leather and tried to clear all of the extra clutter from her mind. The feel of a calloused hand on her thigh startled her as it reached for the company of her palm. Little did she know, Mike had been sneaking glances at the way that her curls whipped freely around her, the way that her lips parted as she took deep, calming breaths, the way that she was able to just be even with the world on her shoulders and watching her every move. Her fingers threaded between his and he held the back of her hand to his lips as he pulled into the parking lot of her building.

  
Ginny released his hand. "I guess I'll see you at game time."

  
"You will.

  
Ginny hesitated. Words lingered in the back of Mike's throat. She climbed out of the Corvette before either of them could do anything that would make them renege on their deal. Their day was over, and it was time to get back to reality. Mike waited until Ginny was back in her building before peeling off. When Ginny made it up to her room, she held her breath once she turned her phone back on. She couldn't imagine how many calls, texts, and emails she had missed. As soon as the buzzing began, she dropped the device on the bed and headed straight for the fridge. She suddenly wished that she would've taken Mike up on his offer to cook for her, but the last thing she needed was another reason to fall head over heels for Mike Lawson, so instead she pulled out a couple of eggs and started her day.

  
Mike didn't want to go home, and he didn't want to drive around aimlessly, so he went to the stadium locker room to hopefully work off some steam. His phone rang in his back pocket as he went to pull out his spare gym bag. He forgot that he'd turned it back on. Blip's name and a picture of the Yorkies appeared on his screen. Mike sighed deeply before answering.

  
"What did you do?"

  
"Good morning to you too, Blip."

  
"I thought Ginny murdered you."

  
"What? Why?"

  
"You both just happened to disappear off the face of the earth on the same day. Did you really think that no one would notice?"

  
"Yeah. Amelia gave me the spiel already."

  
"Then you know that Evie's on a war path?"

  
"Against me?" Mike plopped down in his chair.

  
"You and Ginny," Blip said simply.

  
"Why? I didn't do anything."

  
"Now, you and I both know that's not true."

  
"She just needed some time to clear her head."

  
"With you, of all people? For an entire day?"

  
"She's not with me. And what's that supposed to mean?"

  
"Oh, so you finally took her back home?"

  
"She took a cab back last night."

  
"Really? Because Evie damn near broke her door down thinking that she had been kidnapped around 9. It took me hours to finally talk Evie out of storming Casa de Lawson after we got the text from Amelia saying that Ginny was with you. Just how late did she go home?"

  
"Why am I being interrogated for helping out a teammate?" Mike was too exhausted to come up with lies on the fly. Maybe he should have just gone home.

  
"Because Ginny doesn't just disappear—except for the Nike debacle—and she definitely doesn't disappear with you, so clearly something happened."

  
Mike laid back, contemplating whether it would be worth it to sleep on one of the physical therapy tables. “She was upset.”

  
“About?”

  
Mike wasn’t ready to have this argument again so soon. “Chicago.”

  
Blip was silent for a beat. “So it’s true.”

  
“It is. I got the call yesterday. A part of me didn’t believe that they would go through with it. And I definitely didn’t think that it would move this quickly.”

  
“How quickly?”

  
“Tomorrow’s my last game as a Padre, Blip.”

  
“I know. I just wanted to hear it from you.”

  
“What?”

  
“The news broke yesterday afternoon. You’re the hot topic right now. You haven’t heard?”

  
“You said it yourself, I disappeared.”

  
"Well, I've been getting texts from the guys all morning asking if this is just another rumor."

  
"And what did you tell them?"

  
"That something like this needed to come from their captain."

  
"After tomorrow, that's you. You're their captain."

  
Blip was silent, so Mike continued. "The trade is final. You're next in line. This can't be too much of a surprise, but this is your team now, so hang up. I need a nap and you need to start prepping for the playoffs."

  
"Drinks tonight?" Blip asked finally.

  
"We'll see. My old bones might not be up for it."

  
**~**~**

  
Ginny swung her duffel over her shoulder, pulled on her headphones, and opened the door to find Amelia on the other side with her hand poised to knock. A beat passed as both women waited for the other to speak first.

  
Ginny paused her music and pulled her headphones back down. "Hey. I was going to go for a run before the meeting with Oscar. Were we supposed to meet up this morning, or something?"

  
"No. I just—I just wanted to make sure that you were good."

  
Stepping past Amelia, Ginny pulled the door closed to make it clear that she had no interest in sticking around for a lecture. "Yeah. I'm fine. I just needed a breather. Dr. Barton recommended that I do that every now and then."

  
"That's fair. It just would've been nice to know that you were safe. After the whole Nike incident, I thought that we were going to try to communicate with each other more."

  
Ginny's irritation was starting to mount, so she placed her headphones back over her ears and picked up the pace. Amelia mirrored her. "With everything that's happened in the last few weeks, you're probably the last person who should be chastising me for having poor communication skills." Amelia halted, stunned. Ginny pressed the button for the elevator. "I have a game to prep for. If you want to catch up, we can do it after."

Amelia’s jaw nearly hit the floor as the doors slid shut. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Currently drowning in Bawson feels on Tumblr under username giggleangel11.  
> Let me know what you think!


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